CSi:Yarn About Henry 1: The Trouble With Henry
by A Rhea King
Summary: Lab tech, Henry Andrews, has worked under the radar since he started working at LVPD CSi. But when his parents are killed in a hit and run, he risks his job and secrets to bring their killer to justice.
1. Chapter 1

**An Evening of Mailbox Baseball  
**By  
A. Rhea King

**Chapter 1**

In the fading twilight, it was hard to see Mike and Alicia cutting through the south side fence of the Saver Car Rental lot. Behind them, an airplane took off and Mike lifted his whiskey bottle to it, shouting something unintelligible at it. Alicia, laughing, grabbed his arm and pulled him along while he drank the whiskey. The couple hurried to the row of the most expensive cars on the lot: Corvettes, Hummers, Cadillacs, Jaguars, and shiny, Torch Red, 2008 Shelby GT. The car was sleek, like a Thoroughbred, made to move fast and lithe. Mike reached out to touch it and Alicia slapped his hand. She moved closed to him, both smiling lustily at the other. She dug into his pockets, fondling him as she felt around for what she wanted. She pulled her hand out with the encoded key and held it up, pressing the button on it. The car alarm beeped a couple times before it disengaged. Mike slid behind the wheel and passed his whiskey off to Alicia when she climbed into the passenger seat. She drank while he adjusted the seat for himself.

"Hurry up!" she laughed, pounding her feet against the floorboard.

Across the lot, the parking attendant heard the car's engine rev to life, and turned away from the conversation he'd been having with two other parking attendants. He walked out to the center of the lane, looking in the direction of the sound. The Shelby was hidden from view by a row of economy sedans. Headlights flashed through the darkness and suddenly the Shelby barreled around the corner, straight toward him. He leapt to the side, barely in time.

Mike crashed through the arm across the gate, tires squealing as he cranked the wheel. The Shelby fishtailed, almost hitting several other cars.

"Not yet! Not yet!" the passenger scolded the driver. "It won't count until we reach the start line, Mike!"

Mike straightened out the steering wheel and sped off down the road.

* * *

Henry Andrews exited the Mandalay Bay Hotel and Casino at a trot. His six-year-old brother, Jason, rode on his shoulder, laughing as he bounced on each exaggerated footstep. Rachel and Harvey Andrews trailed behind, watching their boys with disapproving, stern expressions. The two brothers stopped at the curb and Henry swung his brother off his shoulder, catching him and standing him on the sidewalk next to him. Harvey handed his ticket to the valet and the man trotted off to get his car. 

"Swing me, Henry!" Jason said.

"No," Rachel said, grabbing Henry's arm.

"Just one swing, mom, please," Jason begged.

"I said no," she sternly answered.

"Hey, listen to mom, okay, kiddo?"

"His name is Jason," Harvey corrected Henry.

"Dad, it's just--" Henry stopped when Harvey shot him a disapproving glance.

Henry looked back into Jason's pleading eyes.

"We have a long drive still tonight. We don't need him wound up." Rachel explained.

Henry nodded with a tight smile. "Right."

The valet drove a bronze Cadillac up to the curb and parked it. Harvey tipped the valet as he handed over the keys.

"Okay, Jas, time to get going."

"Why won't you come to see Uncle Gary?"

"I can't. I have to work."

"I told you we can help you this month if you went," Rachel told him.

"I know, mom. I did put in the request, but someone else had their request in first. I just haven't been here long enough."

"With your doctorate, you could have found a better job," Harvey scolded him. "You never should have taken something so menial."

"Or at least a job where you were weren't exposed to _criminals_ all the time!" Rachel added. She didn't even try to hide how much she detested Henry working with Las Vegas CSI.

Henry bit his tongue – literally. He had taken the job in Las Vegas to escape the expectations his old co-workers, parents, and even the people in his home town, had set for him. In Las Vegas, there weren't many people that knew anything about him. Although, he sometimes considered telling his co-workers that, next to Grissom, he was probably the smartest person among them. That usually happened on days when Hodges was being more belittling than usual, when the CSI – save Catherine – talked down to him, and Grissom was pushing him for results faster than the out-of-date equipment allowed.

On those days, he was tempted to reveal that he celebrated his sixteenth birthday by graduating from the University of Mississippi, Phi Beta Kappa with a Ph.D. in forensic chemistry. Those days he wanted to rub it in their faces that for five years he had worked in one of the top labs in the country, sorting through evidence brought from terrorist attacks around the world, including evidence from the World Trade Center, and all the time right under his father's thumb. That was usually where their petty annoyances in his life met head on with the real annoyances in his life. They had nothing on his father.

And, in all actuality, he landed his job on a fluke. While he was waiting for a spectrum analysis one day, he was surfing the Internet and ran across the lab tech position for the Las Vegas PD. He decided he would throw in his application and see what happened. Two days later, Catherine called him for his first interview. They talked for two hours about their jobs -- at least the parts they _could_ talk about. She was supervising a day shift with Nick and Warrick, and she interviewed him four more times before finally offering him the job. The funny thing was he didn't remember hesitating. 'I'll take it,' just came out, and suddenly he was in his car, aimed for Nevada, with two very angry parents behind him.

On his first day, he asked her never to tell his co-workers about his education and age. She was surprised, but promised she wouldn't tell anyone unless she had to – which she seemed to think would never happen. Then she moved to graveyards and he kept asking her to move him to graveyards too. She seemed to have a little trouble getting Grissom convinced, but it ended he signed off on it and Henry had been happy ever since.

So even on days his co-workers got under his skin, he never told them who Henry Andrews really was. It was easier to vent his frustration by aiming his car for the desert, pressing his luck with the speed limit, and blaring Evergreen Terrace or some other speed metal band.

"Will you buckle me in, Henry?" Jason asked.

"Jason, you can do it yourself," Rachel told him.

"Oh, mom," Henry gently scolded as he opened the back door. "Some things are funner when your big brother does them, huh, Jason?"

"Yep!"

"Yes," Harvey corrected his youngest son, and then corrected his eldest, "Funner is not a word, Henry. Do not teach him slang."

"Yes!" Jason said and giggled when Henry mimicked their father.

Jason hopped onto the seat and climbed into the child's car seat in the middle of the car. Henry quickly buckled him in and then held his fist up. Jason made a fist and knocked their knuckles together, sprang his hand open and they waggled their fingers against each other's.

"That's my little man. I'll see you if you guys stop by on the way back."

"Okay. Bye Henry."

Henry gave him a fast hug and then got out of the car. He moved toward his mother to give her a hug, but she got in the car. Henry caught the door before she closed it.

"Sorry about supper. We didn't mean to make a scene, mom."

"That's the past, Henry. We'll talk to you soon, son."

Henry closed the door, watching his dad walk around the car. He waved good-bye to his father. Harvey returned it with a firm nod and got in. Henry leaned over, waving to Jason. He waved back, grinning at him. Henry stood, watching them leave. He turned and flagged a taxi.

* * *

Jason sung to himself in the back of the car. His parents sat silently in the front, lost in their own thoughts. Harvey pulled onto US 95, heading west. 

"Maybe we should have gotten a room at The Mirage. It was nice. Henry was right about that," Rachel said.

"I'd rather just drive to Lake Tahoe. I know where the sheets in those beds have been."

Rachel smiled wistfully. "We could have stayed, Harvey. We haven't seen him in six months and he was off for three days tomorrow."

"It was his choice not to take the time off to go with us."

"He said he put in the request and someone else had their request in first. I--"

"If he'd wanted to spend time with us, he would have made it happen. Henry has to learn how to assert himself. He's never learned that and you haven't helped him with it, either."

Rachel stared at Harvey. Behind them, Jason had stopped singing, watching them. Only he had born witness to the rising tension between the two since Henry had left Ohio.

She looked away with a soft sigh, telling Harvey, "Some day you're going to see he's happier here than he ever was in your laboratory, Harvey. I hope it's not too late when that day comes."

Harvey didn't reply, only set his jaw.

Silence followed. Jason looked down at the floor at his dropped toy.

"Mommy, I dropped Ralph," Jason said. "Can you please get him for me?"

Rachel unbuckled her seat belt and turned, picking it up. "Hold on to it, Jason. I'm not going to keep picking it up."

Cars swerved behind them and Harvey's eyes flicked to the side mirror, then the rear view. For a moment, nothing further happened. Then cars started moving erratically, trying to avoid something he couldn't yet see.

"Okay," Jason answered.

"Buckle up, Rachel," Harvey told her. His calm voice was a few octaves higher.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking at him.

She looked out the back window, seeing a car spin off the road and disappear over the steep embankment. She spun around, trying to buckle her seat belt with shaking fingers.

"What's wrong?" Jason asked.

There was no time for Harvey to switch lanes and pull off the road...

* * *

Catherine maneuvered the Denali between the police barricades and stopped on the highway shoulder. She and Nick got out, grabbing their kits. 

"Fifth one tonight. Whoever is doing this must be going for a record," Nick said.

"Or dealing with some serious road rage."

They started down the steep embankment together. Catherine watched paramedics hurrying up the embankment with a gurney. Judging from the small lump under the blanket, it was a child.

"That's the fifth child that's gone to the hospital because of this idiot."

Nick glanced at the gurney. They made their way down the steep embankment.

"Ohio. Notice how none of them have been Nevada plates? I think this guy might be targeting people from out of state."

"I noticed that too," Nick answered.

Brass turned from the patrolman he was speaking with when he heard their voices.

"Turning into a long night, huh?" Catherine asked.

"If we don't catch this guy I'm quitting."

Catherine and Nick both chuckled.

"What do we have?"

"The driver and passenger are dead, looks like they were grandma and grandpa maybe." he motioned to the ambulance. "One child, he wasn't conscious when the officer arrived on the scene." He held up a bag with a wallet and another with a purse. "I have I.D. on both vics. Do you want me to deliver these to Mandy too?"

"If you don't mind. Tell her if I'm not back in time, have Grissom contact first of kin."

"How many of these do you have waiting so far?" Brass asked her.

"Let's see, the first one had six college students, all deceased. The second was one woman, then a couple, then a van with a high school debate team, that was eight, and a mother and her baby. Twenty-two and counting."

"Why don't you let me handle this one and the next few if there's more?"

"Thank you!" Catherine said with great relief.

Brass started to reply when a patrolman at the top of the embankment called, "Detective Brass!"

"Yeah?"

"We got another one."

To Catherine and Nick he said, "Work faster." To the patrolman he called back, "Coming!"

Nick and Catherine turned to the car.

"I'll take the skids if you want to take the car this time," Nick offered.

"Sure."

Nick headed back up the embankment. Catherine crouched down, starting to process the car.

* * *

Grissom reviewed folders of the last few accidents, trying to figure out what the common element was. Catherine sat across from them, reading reports herself. 

"We have another four coming still?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah. That makes ten accident scenes, thirty dead, and something tells me we aren't done yet," Catherine answered.

"This person is full of rage."

"Was that a guess or observation?"

Grissom looked up to answer and found Mandy Webster standing in his door, picking at the edge of a file folder. He pulled off his glasses.

"Mandy, how long have you been there?"

She looked up and he was surprised to see she was crying. Catherine turned, staring at her.

"Uhm... Grissom... We gotta problem with one of the next of kin."

"You didn't call them yourself, did you?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Which one is it, Mandy?" Catherine asked.

She opened the folder. "Bronze Cadillac, an older couple and a young boy. The couple's ID were Rachel and Harvey Andrews."

"What about them?" Grissom asked.

She started crying harder as she rushed forward, handing him the open folder, and pointing to the name of the next of kin.

Grissom looked up at Mandy. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive." Mandy answered. "I even made the receptionist wake up someone in H.R. to pull his emergency contact info. Those are his parents, Grissom... Henry's their son."

Catherine paled slightly. "Our lab tech Henry?" Catherine asked, rising to her feet.

Mandy nodded.

Catherine turned to Grissom. "I gave him the paint transfer chips from their accident scene."

Grissom rushed out of his office tailed by Catherine and Mandy.

* * *

The Squirrel Nut Zippers played on Henry's CD player across the room. He opened a bag with red paint scrapings and using tweezers, prepared a slide. 

"Henry," Grissom said.

He glanced up, smiling, and then turned back to his work. "I've got four samples in the spectrograph now--"

"Henry," Grissom said again.

"...But so far they're all coming to the same car. The color is Torch Red, which really doesn't narrow this down much, I know, but--"

"Henry, I need you to--"

Henry picked up the slide, putting it under the microscope. "I know, I'm behind on your B&E, but Catherine said that--"

"Henry, put that evidence down," Grissom snapped.

Henry stopped, looking at him. "Did I do something wrong?"

Grissom moved slowly up the table toward him. "I need you to step away from the evidence, Henry."

Henry glanced at Mandy and Catherine stepping into the room. Mandy was still crying with her hand over her mouth. He slid off his stool, stepping away.

"Did I do something wrong, Mandy?"

She shook her head.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Henry," Grissom told him. "Tell me what your parent's names are?"

"My parent's names? Why?"

"Just tell me, Henry."

"Rachel and Harvey. Why?"

"And your brother. What's his name?"

"How did you know I have a brother?"

"His name, Henry."

"Jason. Why? What's going on?"

Grissom cleared his throat. "Are your parents visiting you right now? Are they in Las Vegas tonight?"

"They were here. We had dinner and they left for Lake Tahoe. Why are you asking me about them? Did they get pulled over or something?"

Grissom stopped moving. "Henry, your parent's car was one of the cars that were run off the road on US 95 tonight. Your parents are dead, and your brother is in the hospital."

Henry stared at him for a long minute, and then his head began to slowly wag.

"You're lying. This is a joke. This is a sick, sick joke!"

Grissom shook his head. "I'm not joking, Henry."

"No. No! They're fine. I'll prove it." Henry pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. He tapped the loudspeaker so Grissom could hear it ringing.

Across the hall, Nick had boxes of evidence collected from the accident scenes. He looked up when a cell phone in one started ringing. He stood, sorting through the boxes until he found it. Nick pulled out the bagged phone, looking at the face of the device. The text on the screen read: Henry.

Nick slowly looked across the hall, right into Henry's eyes. Henry rushed past Grissom, pushed Mandy and Catherine out of his way, and ran into the room. He reached out to grab the bag away. Nick instinctively yanked the bag away.

"THAT ISN'T YOURS!" Henry bellowed.

Nick had only known the man for a few months, but he'd never heard Henry raise his voice to anyone. It was a surprise to hear him now.

"What's going on, Grissom?" Nick asked, keeping the bag out of Henry's reach. "Henry, back off. Back off, man!"

Henry made a grab for the bag. His fingers hooked in a corner, tearing the bag. He caught the falling cell phone, turning it over as it stopped ringing. Blood had dried across the face with a fingerprint in the middle.

"Give Nick the phone," Grissom said.

"What's going on?" Nick asked again.

Grissom ignored the question. "Henry, give Nick the phone. We have to process it. You know that. You can't keep it and you can't handle it."

Henry didn't respond.

"Henry, your brother is in the hospital right now. He needs you. Give Nick the phone back and we'll go over there now."

A tear slid down Henry's face. Nick reached out and pulled the phone from Henry's hand.

"Come on, Henry," Grissom gently coaxed. As he left the lab with his lab tech, he told Nick, "Find all the evidence from a Cadillac STS. Process it first."

Nick looked at the phone, then Catherine and Mandy. They were watching Grissom leave with Henry.

"Who was in that car, Catherine?"

"Henry's parents and brother."

Nick looked back down at the phone. He sorted through the boxes and bags, pulling out everything that had come from that accident scene.

* * *

A child screaming and crying could be heard when Grissom and Henry came into the ER admissions. Grissom walked up to the front counter. 

"A little boy came in about an hour ago. He was from a hit and run on US 95."

The nurse looked down at her computer. She looked up and stood.

"Sir, you can't go back there!"

Grissom turned as Henry went through the doors into the ER room. He turned back to the nurse.

"The boy, ma'am. His name is Jason Andrews. That's his brother. I need everything you have on him." Grissom pointed to the CSI on his vest. "Everything."

She looked at him, then the door, and then sat back down.

* * *

Henry watched his brother. The child stared blankly at him, silent tears running down his cherub face. 

"Where's Ralph?" Jason whispered.

Henry looked down. He didn't know that answer, but he guessed someone at the lab was probably processing it.

"Ralph is with a friend. He got hurt too."

"He can't get hurt."

Henry smiled, smoothing his bangs back. "You're a pretty smart kid, know that?"

"Mister Andrews," someone said.

He turned, staring at Doctor Baker standing three feet from the bed. Henry walked over to her.

"We got the x-rays back," Doctor Baker told him. "He has a broken leg and two broken ribs. We're going to have to do surgery to set the ribs, and we'll set the leg while he's under."

"Under?"

"Anesthesia. Do you know if he has any problems with anesthesia?"

Henry shook his head. "I don't know..." Henry made a face to keep his tears held back.

Doctor Baker nodded. "He's young. Most of them don't have any problems. We need to get him in now though so I need you to sign the release form."

Henry stared at the form on the clipboard she held. He reached out and took it, scrawling his signature along the bottom.

"How long will this take?" Henry asked.

"The surgery will be about an hour. He'll be in recovery for two hours."

"I want to stay here until he's asleep, then I need to go to work for a little while. Will you call me when he's moved to a room?"

"I can do that."

Henry returned to the bedside, taking Jason's hand.

"Hey buddy. The doctor is going to come give you some medicine and you're going to take a little nap. Then she's going to fix what hurts."

"Are you going to stay with me?"

"I can't while he's fixing you, but I promise I'll be here when you wake up from your nap, okay?"

Jason started crying harder. "I want you to stay with me."

"I can't, Jason. I'm not a doctor."

"But you have a degree. Don't doctors have degrees?"

Henry smiled. "Mine is in chemistry, not medicine. I promise, Jason, on my life, I will be here when you wake up."

"You won't get hurt while I'm taking a nap?"

Henry shook his head.

A man walked up carrying a plastic box with bottles, syringes and supplies in it.

"Hi. I'm Cameron, the anesthesiologist. So, Jason, I heard we're going to let you take a nap."

Jason nodded.

"Sounds like a good plan to me." Cameron prepared a needle and then picked up Jason's I.V. line and injected. "This will be a little cold."

Jason cringed, squeezing Henry's hand. Cameron capped the syringe and dropped in the sharps box on the wall. He wrapped two fingers around Jason's wrist and looked at his watch.

"Okay, Jason, I'm going to start counting backward from one hundred. Just listen to my voice while I count.

"Promise you'll be here?" Jason asked Henry. Already the drug was starting to make him slur his sowrds.

"Swear it, buddy."

Cameron began counting and Jason was out before he got to ninety-three.

"We're going to have to move him now," Cameron told Henry. "There's a waiting room outside the children's wing on four if you want to wait up there. We'll let you know when we have in his room."

Henry stood, moving out of the way as the doctor and nurses came in to take Jason. He watched them leave feeling lost again. He headed for the exit.

* * *

Nick was headed for the morgue when he passed the trace lab and glanced in. He stopped and turned, staring at Henry. Nick walked back to the lab door. 

"Henry."

Henry looked up from the microscope.

"Whatcha doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?"

"Processing evidence. On which case?"

"Grissom's B&E."

"Aren't you supposed to be at the hospital?"

"Jason's in surgery for a few hours. I needed something to do."

Nick walked up and he quickly moved the slide he had out. He was trying not to look suspicious, which made the action all the more suspicious. Nick stopped.

"Didn't you get the night off?"

Henry turned to him. "There was a stuffed dog in my parent's car. It's made out of patches of cloth. Do you have it?"

"I've got it. I can't release anything until I've finished processing it. Maybe not even then if it has evidence on it."

Henry nodded, looking away. "It was our favorite one."

"It was yours?"

Henry nodded.

"I'll see if I can figure something out."

Henry nodded. "Well, back to work."

Nick nodded and walked away, but he couldn't resist one backward look. Henry wasn't supposed to be there, but he didn't have the authority to send him home. He came around a corner, running into Catherine.

"Hey, can you pick up the paint chips and run those?" Catherine asked. "I just realized Henry started them but in all the commotion no one was reassigned them."

"I think Henry might be working on them."

"What?"

"He's in his lab working on something that he didn't want me to see. He hid it as soon as I came in. I was just on my way to tell Grissom."

"I'll take care of it."

"Well Grissom--"

"He's on a call with the Under Sherriff, Ecklie and the Mayor. Now isn't the best time to bring this to him."

Nick followed her.

"What is with you and Henry? This isn't the first time you've covered for him when he's done something wrong."

She looked up at him. "I guess it was some other Nicholas Stokes I covered for, frequently, in his first year."

Nick smiled. "Guess I forgot about those days."

They came around the corner and Nick hung back, letting Catherine deal with the situation.

"Hey, Catherine," Henry said when she entered.

She didn't reply. She grabbed his coat off the coat rack, walked up to him and switched off the microscope light, and then held out his coat.

"I want you out of this lab now. You're going to let Nick drive you back to the hospital. When I have news, I'll call you."

Henry didn't move. He glanced at Nick when he stopped just inside the door. Nick saw pain and anger in the young man's face, and it made him look away.

"You've broken protocol once by accident. The second time intentionally. I need you to understand that and leave."

"I can't just leave this. I can't--"

"Henry, we were processing evidence before you were hired, remember? We were solving cases, catching bad guys, while you were still in college. We'll catch this person, Henry. We'll find out who killed your parents, and we'll put him away. But you cannot help us, not this time."

Henry looked at the microscope. Catherine leaned close, laying her hand on his shoulder. He looked into her eyes.

"Do you want this guy to get away with killing your parents and hurting your brother?"

"No!"

"If you touch any more evidence, everything you touch will get dismissed. He may walk on that simple, minor, seemingly unimportant technicality. Is that what you want?"

Weaker he answered, "No."

"Then put on your coat, go with Nick to his truck, go to the hospital, and wait with your little brother. _He_ needs you more than we do."

Henry looked away as tears started to fall.

"I've been here, Henry. I know how hard this is."

Henry brushed her hand off as he stood. He took off his lab coat, holding it in his hands.

"What?" she asked.

He handed it to her and took his coat. Henry walked toward Nick, who turned and walked beside him. Catherine looked at the lab coat she held, running her finger over 'Andrews' embroidered on it. She turned, looking at his notes. In the short time he'd been there, she could see he'd gotten far. She looked up, seeing Greg walk past.

"Greg."

He turned and came back. "Yeah?"

"Are you working on something right now?"

"Naw. Still waiting for the last four cars to get here."

She walked up to him, lowering her voice. She pointed at the table.

"That's Henry's work. Make it your own."

"Consider it mine," Greg whispered.

Catherine hung Henry's lab coat on the coat rack and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

As Greg continued re-writing Henry's lab notes, he'd discovered Henry had identified the chemical makeup of the paint that pointed toward Ford as the manufacturer. That was helpful and he could use witness accounts to narrow down the model, but the problem lay in he had to erase Henry from all the lab tests. While Greg was impressed that Henry had managed to narrow the chemical compound down in the thirty minutes he'd snuck back into the lab, he wasn't sure how. It was a daunting chore deciphering Henry's shorthand and trying to replicate his experiments. He had confidence, though, that this last test might just be the final one.

"You seen Nick?" Warrick asked as he came in.

"Naw."

"Aren't these the paint chips?"

"Yeah."

"I woulda thought our little Speedy Gonzales would have these finished by now. I'll never understand how that man gets his lab to run so fast."

"You haven't heard, have you?"

"Heard what?"

"Two of the victims were Henry's parents. They're dead and his little brother is in the hospital."

"You're kidding? Poor kid."

The computer beeped and Greg wheeled over to the computer. He whistled at the car it was displaying.

"Ford Shelby GT, 2008. Even comes in Torch Red with optional black racing stripes. Sweet ride."

Warrick turned, spotting police reports. "The police were able to get statements from two of the victims on scene."

"The survivors?"

"Naw. The people died on the table. Let's see here… Red sports car with black stripes down the sides and hood. Looks like we've found the right ride."

"Time to wake up some locals and see if their owners know where their babies are tonight," Greg said as he hit print.

"You know, you're in too good a mood, considering."

Greg looked up at him. "Just thinking about how many life sentences this killer is going to get is making me giddy."

"Right. Keep me updated with the list."

"Will do." Greg grabbed the print out and rolled over to a phone.

* * *

Nick watched Henry. He had been sitting hunched over and staring at his hands for two hours. He felt sorry for the young man. Nick's phone beeped and he pulled it out, retrieving the waiting text message: _Return to the lab_. Nick stood, picking up his coat. 

"I'm heading back. Are you gonna be okay?" Nick asked.

Henry barely nodded his head.

Nick's phone rang and he answered it.

"Stokes."

"Catherine said you're with Henry," Greg said. "Are you still? He's not answering his phone."

"I think it's off. What's up?"

"We identified the car involved in the hit and runs. It was stolen from a car rental company tonight and state patrol found it wrapped around a telephone pole twenty minutes ago. Tell him thank you."

"For what?"

"His notes and lab work helped speed up the re-processing. He did an awesome job."

Nick looked down at Henry. "I'll tell him." Nick hung up the phone. "That was Greg. They found the car that ran your parent's off the road and it's being brought back. He said your notes and lab worked helped him find it faster and thanked you."

Henry looked up at him with a faint smile. "It helped?"

Nick smiled. "Yeah. I'll call you if anything else comes up."

Henry nodded. Nick turned and walked away. He stopped at the elevator, looking back down the hall. Henry was hunched over again, holding his head in his hands and silently crying. Nick wanted to call Catherine and tell her he was staying with Henry, but when the elevator car came, he stepped on.

* * *

"Who'd want to destroy such a beautiful car?" Nick said as he and Greg walked into the garage. 

"I don't think they stole it thinking about how beautiful it was."

Nick shook his head. "Shame. Total shame."

He grabbed the driver's door and with two hard tugs, pulled it open. It creaked as it gave into his tugging. Greg moved around to the passenger side and had to tug even harder. The two turned on their flashlights and began going over the inside of the car.

Nick's light flashed across a beer can and removed it, slipping it in a bag. He found hairs along the edge of the driver's seat and carefully removed them with tweezers.

Greg's light ran across gum stuck to the carpet. He pulled it off, bagging it, but his eye was on a crushed bottle. He carefully picked through the piece until he found the top. He was sure that would have DNA on it. He carefully put it in a paper bag, and then returned to pull long strands of brunette hair from the seat. He was hoping everything would lead them to a clear and obvious driver and passenger – and a conviction for Henry.

* * *

Henry stared out at the Las Vegas lights, wondering what the CSI had found and hadn't told him yet. He closed his eyes and in his mind's eye replayed the last conversation with his parents. He never let on how angry it made him to watch them raise Jason just as they had raised him – no physical contact, he had to be quiet unless spoken to, behave all the time, never get dirty, and never, ever be a kid. That was no way to raise a child, but he's survived it all, hadn't he? Jason was the only person in the world that understood what hell it was growing up like that. He thought it was sad that he'd had to learn how to play with his brother by watching his fellow students at college and his co-workers at work. He'd been clueless as to what he had missed all his life. Nevertheless, he wished his parents would relax, not be killed. 

"Henry?" he heard Jason whisper.

Henry turned and smiled when he saw Jason was awake. He walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge next to him.

"See. I told you I'd be here when you woke up."

"Where's Mommy and Daddy?"

Henry just smiled, taking his hand. "You can see the Las Vegas strip from you room." Henry looked out the window at the strip. "See that line of lights?"

"Where's Mommy and Daddy?"

Henry looked down.

Jason sniffed. He slowly looked up, into Jason's watery eyes.

"Why aren't they here?"

"Uhm… Jason…" Henry drew a deep breath. He wasn't sure how to tell him this. He wasn't sure he could tell him without losing it himself. "Do you remember when we all went to say good-bye to Grandma Irene in Florida?"

Jason started crying. "Mommy and Daddy are dead?"

Henry nodded. He was fighting hard to keep his tears back.

"Mommy and Daddy are dead?" Jason wailed.

Henry nodded again. He slowly moved around so he could lie next to Jason. Jason grabbed a hold of his shirt, pressing his small face into Henry's chest.

"Yes, Jas, they are."

Henry looked up when a nurse came to the door. She watched for a minute and then left. Jason tried to move closer. He screamed, grabbing at his side. Henry grabbed his hands.

"No. No, Jason. You can't grab there. Lay still, Jason."

The nurse came back. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Why is he crying like that then?"

Exasperated Henry snapped, "I just told my six year old brother his parents are dead! Why do you think he's crying?"

Quietly she replied. "I'm sorry.

Henry sighed. "Jason, does your side or leg hurt? Do you want the nurse to get you anything?"

Jason just kept crying.

"I can give him something the help him relax," the nurse told him. "I'll be right back."

Henry nodded.

"I want Mommy! I want Daddy!" Jason cried out.

Henry did too. His phone started ringing. He pulled it out, seeing 'Catherine' on the display. He answered it.

"I can't talk right now," Henry told her.

"I hear that. We found the suspect. I'll keep you posted," she told him and then hung up.

He dropped the phone on the bed, trying his best to comfort and calm his brother.

The nurse came back and injected a shot into Jason's I.V. The crying quickly subsided.

"I want Mommy," Jason whispered as he faded to sleep.

Henry stared at Jason's face, gently stroking it even after the child had fallen asleep. The nurse coming back to check on Jason and quietly asked Henry if there was anything she could do. He never answered – he never heard her. His mind was caught at CSI, where the suspect was. The suspect that had killed his parents and dozens of others. The driver was ruthless to leave behind such mayhem. But what if the man didn't confess? They may have evidence, but that didn't promise a conviction – not without a confession.

Henry got up and walked back to the window. Somewhere among those lights were the police station and the suspect. Henry pulled out his wallet, flipping to a picture of his brother's first grade school photo. He smiled at the photographer – Jason loved cameras. On a pinky swear, and heart cross secret, he'd revealed to Henry he wanted to be an actor. Henry looked back at the sleeping child. This suspect had no right ruin Jason's dream, or to make both him and Henry orphans.

Henry left the room, headed for lab. Maybe there was a way to get a confession.

* * *

Warrick and Grissom watched the interrogation of Mike Braun through the one-way mirror. Warrick slowly shook his head. 

"This one is thick skinned, Grissom. He's not going to give up the passenger so easy."

Grissom didn't answer.

"Maybe this would help," someone said.

The two turned, staring at Henry. He was holding out a picture to them.

"Henry, you're not supposed to be here," Grissom told him.

"I thought maybe this would help get him to talk." Henry held out Jason's photograph.

"Henry, we're handling this. You have to leave. You can't even be in the observation room right now."

"Grissom, just try. Please, just show him this and see if it helps get him to talk."

"Henry, leave."

"I can't. I can't until he knows."

"Knows what?"

"Knows what he did tonight! He orphaned my brother!"

"Your brother isn't an orphan. He has you."

"Me? He has _me_?" Henry walked up to Grissom, staring into his eyes. "Grissom, I'm twenty-three! My life, my career, was just getting started when this asshole stopped it!" Henry motioned into the interrogation room. "I have lost my parents and I'm supposed to just know how to take care of my brother, and I don't! Yet, all you do is tell me is I can't run evidence; it's against protocol. I can't be here, it's against protocol. Do you have any idea how often I've covered for you and the other CSI _breaching_ protocol? And now, all I want you to do is just take this photo in there and see if you can get him to talk, and you throw protocol at me!? _You hypocrit!_"

The only sound in the room was Brass and the suspect talking. Warrick didn't dare speak or move; he wasn't very sure who was angrier right now: Grissom or Henry, because their anger was on their sleeves.

"I'll show him the photo," Grissom said, holding his hand out for the photo. "You will stay in here with Warrick and you won't attempt to interfere."

"Thank you."

Grissom glanced at Warrick as he passed. "Make sure he stays in here."

Warrick nodded.

Grissom entered the interrogation room, sitting down next to Brass. He sat the picture down and slid it to the center of the table.

"This is one of your victims," Grissom said. "He's six and he was in town with his parents visiting his older brother tonight. You killed their parents tonight and put him in the hospital. Take a really good look at this photograph, Mike."

Mike picked up the picture, looked at it, and then tossed it back to Grissom with a grin. "Cute kid. Too bad for his loss. I'll have to tell the others."

Grissom's eyebrow lifted. "The others?"

Mike laughed, throwing his head back, "Ah man, baby. The others, you know, the ones walking around my head." Mike smiled at Grissom. "Those others. Are we done here? I gotta show I'm missing, baby."

"You aren't going anywhere, _baby_." Brass told him. "The evidence tells us you were in the car and so was a female. Are you really going to take all thirty-eight counts of vehicular homicide for her? You really want to go down for this alone?"

Mike laughed. "Sure! I did my part in cleaning up the state!"

Grissom and Brass heard a voice through the door, and looked at each other. Grissom got up and left the room. He could hear Henry screaming in the observation room and rushed in. Warrick had Henry pinned against the wall. The man was struggling to get free, screaming at the suspect.

"Henry stop it!" Warrick told him

Brass and a policeman marched past the door with the suspect. Henry lunged at the door but Warrick got a new purchase on him and thrust him against the wall, pinning him there with an arm shoved under Henry's chin. Catherine ran in.

"What's going on?" Catherine asked Grissom.

Grissom ignored her, focused on the lab tech that just pushed his wrong button. "Perhaps I had a lapse of judgment, Henry," Grissom told Henry in a voice rich with anger. "Didn't you just you promise me that you would not do anything?"

"He doesn't even care!"

"You're fired. I never should have listened to you."

"Whoa, whoa." Catherine said.

"Catherine, don't—"

"Grissom, you are not firing him." She stopped when he looks up at her. "You know what? Just stand there and wait."

"What?" Grissom asked, looking back at her.

"You heard me. Just hang out for a minute." Catherine walked up to Henry and slapped him.

The action surprised all three men, but it had the effect she desired. Henry stopped fighting and screaming.

"Do I have your attention now?" she asked him.

He slowly nodded.

"Good. I realize that tonight has been a disaster for you, but—"

"A disaster?" Henry asked her.

"Maybe not a disaster. Maybe—"

"I don't know _how_ to be a dad, Catherine!"

Catherine nodded, talking softer. "I have understated the situation, and I don't think there's anyone among us that could possibly understand what you're going through. But, Henry, you can't be here, you _have_ to stay away."

"I have to help convict that guy!"

"Have you even been to the morgue?" Catherine asked him.

"What?" he asked.

"The morgue, Henry. Have you been to the morgue to identify and claim your parents? Have you done that yet tonight?"

"No."

"When is Jason getting out of the hospital?"

"I don't know."

"Have you started calling mortuaries? Are you having your parents buried here or sending them back to Ohio?"

"I— I don't know."

"Henry!" Catherine laid her hands on his shoulders. Warrick moved out of her way. "Henry, you can't deal with an investigation right now! The only thing you can possibly think of right now is you and Jason. You can't deal with this case."

A tear slid down his face.

"Here is what's going to happen. You and Warrick are going to walk you to the morgue where you are going identify your parents and collect their belongings. Maybe you can ask Doc Robbins or David to help you with funeral arrangements."

Henry nodded.

"Good. When you're done, you'll call Warrick and he'll walk you out to your car. Then you're going to go be with your brother. Grissom is going to put you on bereavement for two weeks, so you're going to stay away that long, okay?"

"He just fired me."

"He didn't have time to file that paperwork. Warrick, will you escort Henry to the morgue?"

"Sure," Warrick answered.

Catherine moved back, letting them leave. Grissom shut the door behind them.

Grissom started, "I know you hired him, Catherine, but—"

"My hiring him has nothing to do with this."

"I fired him, Catherine. I can't have—"

"You never read his personnel file when he moved to graveyard, did you?"

"What does that have to do with this?"

Catherine threw up her arms. "Grissom, that kid is twenty-three years old and he has a doctorate in forensic chemistry. He's been in Mensa since he was seven. And, yes, he broke protocol, but I can forgive him considering the circumstances. He is too valuable to our team to just fire out of hand."

"Henry has a Ph.D.?"

"Yes. And in three more semesters, he'll have two."

"What's the second one in?"

"Forensic etymology. I think _you_ had something to do with that."

Grissom was convinced to withdraw firing Henry. "Okay. But if he comes back again, Catherine, I am suspending him."

"If he comes back, I will personally throw him in the cooler until we finish this case."

"You need to charge him with something for that."

"I'll _invent_ something."

Grissom laughed a little. "You like him."

"He's a good kid, Grissom. Tonight he was dealt a terrible blow and he's confused and hurt and overwhelmed. He's only acting human."

Grissom opened the door and stepped through. He turned back. "What did he minor in with that first doctorate?"

"Forensic identification. How'd you know he minored in something?"

"And the second one? What's the minor?"

"Botany. How did you know he had a minor?"

"Because if he's as smart as you say, he would have been bored with one subject. I was." Grissom walked away.

Catherine almost smiled, but the weight of the matter suppressed it.

* * *

Catherine pulled back from the microscope when Wendy sat a piece of paper down next to her. She looked up at the woman's puffy eyes, although Wendy was staring at the paper. 

"I pulled DNA from the gum and bottle Greg found. The passenger was female. Make sure she goes away for a long time," Wendy said, and then walked away.

Catherine picked up the paper. She pulled her cell phone off her belt and dialed Brass.

"Yeah?" Brass said.

"I need to pick up an Alicia Travers. Most recent address 432 Plateau Court."

"Who is she?"

"The passenger."

"Oh good. A judge I won't have to wake up."

"What?"

"He decided to stay up after the fourth call for a warrant tonight."

"Thanks Brass."

Catherine hung up, looking back at the paper.

* * *

The address led the police to a house that a strong wind would have blown over. Brass and the police approached with caution. Brass walked up the stairs and knocked. 

"LVPD. Open up."

There was no answer. Brass motioned two officers to go around back.

He knocked again and louder announced, "LVPD. Open this door!"

One of the officer glanced in a window as he passed. He stopped, and turned back. A young woman lay on the floor with vomit covering her face.

"There's someone down in there!" he called.

Brass tried the door handle and it swung open. Cautiously he went in, followed by two officers. He saw the woman and motioned the other two to search the house. Brass knelt down next to her.

"Ma'am," he said.

He reached down and felt for a pulse. He stood, staring at her. An officer walked up beside him.

"Call for an ambulance?"

Brass stood, slowly shaking his head. "No. Call for the coroner."

* * *

Catherine stared at the child-like face of Alicia Travers. Her young body showed signs she had severely abused it. Catherine didn't hear Grissom enter. 

"Catherine?" Grissom quietly said.

She turned her head.

"Tox came back. She overdosed on heroine. Hours before we found her."

Catherine rubbed her fingers against her forehead, trying to ease the pain building there.

"This isn't right," she said.

"What isn't?"

"They deserve justice, Grissom." Catherine turned to him. "Mike Braun killed their parents. We've placed her in the car. She had to have been involved. But she's dead, and Mike won't confess, so all we can charge him with, is knowing about a stolen car. That's not justice."

"You know as well as I do we can only tell what the evidence shows us."

She looked back at Alicia. "Then why won't it tell us what we want to know?"

Grissom didn't answer. She walked around him.

"Are you going home?" Grissom asked.

She stopped in the door. "No. I'm going to the hospital. Nick pushed that stuffed dog through so Jason could have it back."

"I was wondering if you'd give Henry something for me."

"Not his termination papers, I hope."

Grissom walked up, pulling an envelope from his coat. "I stopped by the airport and picked this up for the two boys. Can you give it to them?"

Catherine took the envelope, watching his face.

"It would mean more coming from you. If it's what I think it is."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd give it to them."

She patted his shoulder. "You have strange ways of saying sorry, Gil, but I'll do it."

Grissom smiled, watching her leave. He looked back at the body. When this was over, when he was at home alone, he was going to call Sara. He was going to tell her how guilty he felt about many things today. He was going to tell her that a prodigy was right under his nose, and all he could think to do was fire him when the trauma of his night caused him to have a mental break down. He was going to tell her he bought the plane tickets in an attempt to ease his guilt. And he was going to admit to her that the guilt wasn't eased any less.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Catherine entered the hospital room, carrying Jason's stuffed dog, a coloring book, and crayons. She glanced at Henry as she passed him. He was curled into the recliner sleeping. Catherine sat the coloring book and crayons on the bedside table, and then turned to set the stuffed dog next to Jason. She smiled when she found Jason watching her.

"Hi there," she said, smiling.

"Hi."

She sat the dog down next to Jason and he immediately clutched it.

"His name is Ralph, isn't it?" she asked.

Jason nodded.

"Ralph had to talk to us about last night. But he's done so I thought I'd bring him to stay with you and Henry. Is that okay?"

Jason nodded, and then asked her, "Who are you?"

"Catherine. I work with your brother."

"Do you find bad guys too?"

"I do."

"Are you going to find the people that killed mommy and daddy?"

"I've found them both."

"What about the others?"

Catherine hesitated. She glanced at Henry, but he was still asleep.

"What others, Jason?"

"There was more than two."

"Really?" Catherine said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Do you remember how many there were?"

"Well… I saw two in one car, and then I saw four in the other car. I think there were more in the one car."

"Are you sure you weren't seeing the same people?"

He nodded.

"How do you know that?"

"The guy driving the other car wore glasses that glowed green. Behind him, in the backseat, was another guy with a flashlight and that was making a scary face."

"What's a scary face look like?"

Jason pretended to hold a flashlight under his chin. "You turn on the flashlight under your chin and make faces. The guy had a beard."

Catherine looked up when she caught a movement on the other side of the bed. Henry was slowly walking up the bed, staring at his little brother.

"So there was more than one car?" Catherine asked.

Jason nodded.

"How do you know?"

"One hit daddy's side, then one hit mommy's side. There wasn't enough time between the hits for there to be only one car. It had to be two. And then..." Jason stopped as tears welled up.

Henry picked up Jason's hand. "You don't have to tell me anymore. You've already been a big help, Jason."

Jason looked up at Henry, telling him, "The car rolled over and over and over. Then it stopped and I was upside down. Daddy never talked to me again, but Mommy did."

Henry smiled, but he didn't say anything.

"Mommy said to tell the police to ask for you. She asked me to tell you her secret."

"What secret?"

"She said she's never told daddy, but she's very proud of you for moving to Las Vegas. She never told him because he gets real mad when someone brings it up."

Henry smiled, squeezing Jason's hand. "That's a big secret. Thanks for telling me."

"Jason," Catherine started, pausing until the child looked at her. "Would it be okay if I had an artist come in and draw the man you saw? Think you could do that?"

Jason nodded.

"Okay. Hey, can I steal Henry for just a few minutes?"

Jason nodded. Catherine got up and walked into the hall. Henry followed her out, looking like a kid about to be yelled at. She reached in her coat pocket and pulled out the envelope Grissom had given her.

"What's this?" Henry asked.

"I don't know. It's from Grissom."

He opened the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets. He looked up at her.

"What are these for?"

She leaned in, whispering, "Grissom says sorry in unusual ways." Then she turned and walked away.

* * *

Greg was looking at a fiber through the microscope when Grissom walked up behind him. 

"Evening, Grissom," Greg said.

Grissom was a little surprised Greg knew he was behind him, but he didn't question it.

"Greg, I have a something I need you to do right away."

Greg turned on the stool.

"You didn't really fire Henry, did you?" Greg asked.

"What?"

"I heard you fired Henry. You didn't, did you?"

"No. He's on bereavement leave. I need you to—"

"Good. Cuz he's wicked smart and when you're not around, he's my go to man."

Grissom was surprised by this. He didn't know Greg even cared about Henry.

"How long did you know he had a doctorate?"

Greg's eyebrows lifted. "I didn't know he had a doctorate. No wonder he's so much like you."

Grissom wasn't sure if that was a compliment or insult. Deciding he didn't really want to know, he moved forward. "Greg, I need you to search for any other stolen Torch Red, 2008, Shelby GT's. Expand it to all of Nevada or the surrounding states."

"How many surrounding states?"

"From Canada to Mexico, no further than Colorado, Wyoming, or New Mexico."

"Montana?"

"Yes."

"You think a second vehicle is involved?"

"The child saw—"

"What child?"

"Henry's brother. He saw—"

"That's Jason. He wants to be an actor."

"Greg."

Greg smiled. "I'm all over it." Greg got up and walked over to a computer, falling into the chair. "Did you know Jason's in MENSA? And he's only six! What I'd give to be that smart."

"No. I didn't know that."

"Smart genes must run deep in that family."

Grissom stared at Greg's back. He was slowly beginning to form a picture of the lab tech he hadn't noticed until last night.

Grissom headed toward the layout room. "Call me with any results."

"Right-o, Grissom."

Grissom resisted looking back. There were nights he was sure Greg had drank too much caffeine, sugar or both.

* * *

"Okay, folks, I got it," Greg said as he rushed into the layout room. 

Grissom, Nick and Warrick looked up from the accident photos they had been going over again.

"Found a car stolen from a lot in some town on the Utah/Nevada border. Never recovered. So I got to thinking about this. Why would they need two cars?"

"And why the exact same models?" Warrick asked.

For a moment they were silent. Then Nick realized what they were missing.

"It was a race."

"A race?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah. Like two people playing mailbox baseball. 'Cept instead of mailboxes, they were using cars."

"Mailbox baseball? What is that?" Warrick asked.

Nick looked up at him. "You really needed to get out more as a teenager."

"It's when someone takes a bat and hangs out the window of a car," Greg answered. "They take a swing at each mailbox they come at. The one that knocks the most off, wins."

"He knew."

"I watched a movie it was in."

Warrick smirked at Nick.

"So then we're looking for another drive and another car," Grissom said. "Jason was right."

"Who's Jason?" Warrick asked.

"Henry's little brother," Grissom, Nick, and Greg answered.

"We're going to trust the eye witness account of a kid?" Warrick asked.

"That kid is real smart," Nick told him.

"Real smart?" Greg asked. Then followed it with, "Uh-uh. Real smart people are like... Well... Grissom. Jason's in Mensa smart."

"I'm in Mensa," Nick shot back. "So he's real smart."

"You're in Mensa?" the room resounded.

"What's wrong with that?"

"I don't think you strike us as someone in Mensa," Greg answered.

"So what? You people don't think I'm smart?"

Before they could answer that, Catherine came in with the sketches. She paused, picking up on the awkward silence in the room.

"Did I just miss a real good fight?" she asked.

"Nick's in Mensa," Greg told her.

"Nick, Grissom, Henry and Scotty from day shift all are."

"Hot chick Scotty?" Warrick asked.

"Mm-hm. But don't any of you tell Hodges that. He got in a few months ago and believes he's the only one in the lab."

The men laughed. She presented the sketches. "Jason remembered as best he could. Here's the driver and his passenger." She turned and hung them up on the light board. She turned back to Greg, taking the paper he held. "So where are we now?"

"Two identical stolen cars and some people playing mailbox baseball with cars," Grissom answered.

"I used to do that. That sure brings back some memories."

The men stare at her.

"You think just because I'm a woman I didn't break a few laws as a teenager?"

Nick and Warrick smiled.

"And since the first car was wrecked," Greg began, "And state or local patrol hasn't found it, I rolled with the hunch they might have taken it to a junkyard. So I called all the local junk yards and—"

"Bet those were great conversations." Nick checked his watch. "Since it's 3 a.m."

"Surprisingly most were already up, but they weren't helpful. Did you know that this car is one of the more popular ones to be totaled? Anyway. There's nineteen yards that take them, only two had just one or two, the rest had more, and they weren't very cooperative about getting me the VIN. All of them told me to show up with a warrant and they'd let me look myself."

Catherine let out a disbelieving chuckle.

"I'll get us warrants. You four divide up the list." Grissom left to get the warrants.

Greg sat another sheet on the table. "I call the first four."

"You _call_ the first four?" Catherine asked. "What are you? Five?"

"No. But I also grouped these in proximity. Saves gas."

"Oh." She looked at the sheet. "We can each take five."

"One of us get's four," Warrick told her.

"We'll give those to Nick." Greg said.

"Why me?"

Greg smiled. "You'll like Sally. She's nice."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Nick stared at him. Greg wasn't telling him something.

* * *

Nick walked into the office of Main Gate Auto Wrecking. The woman sitting behind the counter didn't look friendly at all. She was a short, hunched woman with heavy wrinkles. Age had not been kind to this woman. He could tell from how her lips curled she didn't have any teeth. A large, steaming cup of coffee sat at her elbow and her eyes were on the newspaper in front of her.

"What'd'ya want?" she asked without looking up. Her voice was high-pitched and nasally.

"Hi, ma'am, I'm looking for Sally Banyon. I'm Ni—"

"I don't care who you are. What do you want?" She looked up at him.

Nick smiled. He wondered if she was this pleasant every morning. Maybe she just hadn't had her full cup of coffee.

"I'm looking for a wrecked car."

"No shit. Is that why you're in a junkyard?"

"I'm looking for one in particular. Look, I'm from the crime lab and—"

"LARRY!" she screeched.

He winced as her voice raked across his eardrums. He was going to kill Greg. Sending him to deal with this grouchy woman was going to call for some major payback later.

She held out her hand. "Warrant."

Nick handed over the warrant. She picked up a pair of glasses that were as thick as pop bottle bottoms. A lean man came from a door behind Nick wiping his hands. When he stopped next to Nick, the CSI discovered the man stood at least a foot taller than him and his arms bulged with muscles as he wiped grease from his hands. Larry didn't even say hello, he just stared back at Nick. So Nick looked back at the woman.

"Uh-huh. I see. Larry, take him out to that Shelby."

"Actually, I need to look at the—" Nick started.

"Are you with that smart ass kid that woke me up two hours ago? Said you were looking for a stolen Torch Red, 2008 Shelby GT? Said it was involved in all those cars that were run off the road last night?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Then stop talking and follow Larry. Hate you cops."

"Actually I'm a CSI."

She pulled her glasses off. "OUT!"

Nick didn't ask twice. He followed Larry out of the office and the two started across the yard. The sun had just come over the horizon, bathing the area in rose-colored light.

"She always that friendly?" Nick asked Larry.

He looked down at Nick. The man was soft spoken and his dictation indicated he might even have a college degree. "That's my mom."

Nick raised his eyebrows, smiling. "Nice lady. Real pleasant."

"Not really." He pointed ahead. "That's the car you wanted. Sorry it's cubed, but it was such a mess she decided to re-sell it for recycling. Guess timing wasn't really on your co-workers side this morning."

Nick looked ahead and stopped short. The car was in a cube.

"What about the other Shelby's?"

"They don't match the VIN." Larry handed Nick a piece of paper with a VIN written down on it. "Mom wrote it down when the other guy gave it to her."

Nick closed his eyes a moment and then looked up at Larry.

"Can I ask you something without offending you?"

"Maybe."

"If she knew the car was here, why didn't she just say that?"

Larry looked down at him and grinned. His teeth were perfect and white.

"The Las Vegas Police don't seem to like how she drives, so she hates you guys."

"She gets in a lot of accidents?"

"Oh no. My mom has never had an accident her entire life. She feels the speed limits are too low."

Nick looked back toward the office. That woman, with her bad eyesight and painful voice, was a speed demon? Nick focused on the task at hand.

"Is the VIN number where I can see it? I have to verify it."

Larry walked over to the cube, circled it a couple times and crouched down. He pointed at a spot.

"You can see part of it here. The last ten match; the law of probability would indicate the first seven should also."

"The… Law of probability?"

"Yes."

"Right. Of course" And in the back of his mind Nick added, _Grissom_.

Nick walked over and crouched down. He pulled out his notepad and flashlight, and then shone the light into the space Larry pointed. As he said, the last ten numbers and letters matched.

Nick stood. "Any chance you could transport it to our garage?"

"Let me go talk to mom." Larry started to leave. He turned back. "Tell me, how many kids died from this guy?"

"Why?"

"You want me to transport this, tell me how many kids died. I'll never convince her unless I can prey on her compassion."

"Eleven kids."

Larry shook his head as he turned away. "That'll work."

"Hey, do you think you or your mother could identify the guy that brought this in?"

Larry stopped again, turning back. "Can do one better. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Nick nodded, watching him walk away. He pulled his phone off his belt and dialed.

"Grissom."

"I found the car. At least I'm pretty sure it's the car." Nick looked down at the cube.

"You're _pretty_ sure?"

"Yeah. The last ten of the VIN match, but it's been compacted."

"When can you get it back to the garage?"

Nick looked back toward the office. "I… really can't tell you when I'll get it back to the garage. Soon. How about that?"

"Is there a problem?"

"The junkyard owner doesn't like cops. Her son went to ask her about it."

"Did either of them happen to see the guy?"

"They both did, but apparently, Larry has something better than their visual accounts."

"Who's Larry?"

"Her son."

"Is it surveillance footage?"

"I honestly don't know, Grissom."

"Okay. Call for a tow truck if you need one."

"Will do."

"Hey Nick… Did you know Henry had a doctorate?"

"No. He does? He's only, what, twenty-three?"

"Something like that. Call when you're on your way."

"Sure. See you soon."

Nick hung up and looked down at the cubed car. He wanted to kick it – but that might contaminate the evidence.

* * *

Nick walked around the flatbed tow truck to the waiting CSI. They had all gathered in the garage, curious about the car Nick had found. They stared at it as Larry backed into the garage. The bed tilted until it tapped the floor – Nick had noticed that Larry was a perfect driver. He obeyed all the speed limits, used his turn signal properly, was very aware of the rest of the traffic – and didn't speak once after he got behind the wheel. He didn't even turn on the radio or answer his cell phone while he was driving. It was hard to believe that his mother was the speed demon he made her out to be. 

Larry got out and started lowering the cube toward the floor. Nick grabbed a pair of work gloves and joined him. That apparently inspired the rest of the team to help. They put on work gloves and the group moved the cube to the center of the tarps that were placed on the floor.

"Was that all you needed?" Larry asked.

Everyone but Nick looked up at him. Nick nodded, giving his shoulder a pat. "Yeah. Thanks. And tell your mom we'll be there by six on Saturday."

"Don't be late. Mother hates it when people are late."

Nick looked up at nothing in particular and smiled. He nodded. "She reminded me of that. Seven times."

Larry quietly laughed, walking back to the driver's door. He got in and raised the bed, then drove away.

"You're going back to the junkyard Saturday?" Greg asked.

"Yeah. I had to do some bartering for this." Nick dug in his vest pocket and produced a Polaroid photograph. He held it up for them to see. The photo showed a man wearing neon green glasses with green tinted lenses standing in front of the damaged but whole Shelby. The man was smiling, an expression that made Nick's anger boil every time he looked at it. Was he responsible for killing all these people? Was he responsible for orphaning Henry and Jason?

"I told Sally that Greg and I would provide four hours of free labor for this—"

"What!?" Greg cried. "I—"

"—so treat it like gold Grissom." Nick handed it to Grissom, looking him in the eye. "And let me tell you, Grissom, four hours with that woman will be like eight hours on a trash dump."

Grissom took the picture. "Thank you and Greg for the sacrifice. I'll see if we can identify this person. You guys get started on this."

Grissom left.

"Why did you volunteer me for that?" Greg asked.

"Because you lied to me and said she was a nice." Nick turned and picked up a pair of goggles from the bench, sliding them on. He grabbed a crowbar, looking up the length of the metal. "And for that, my dear boy, you get to spend four hours with that wonderfully cheerful and friendly woman. It'll be great fun."

Greg didn't return Nick's smile.

"Okay, you two, let's see what we can dig out of this," Catherine said, heading off a fight before it happened.

They four grabbed crowbars and goggles, and went to work on the cube.

* * *

Grissom watched as the computer software moved from point to point on the scanned photo. Archie sat down next to him, watching it too. 

"This could take another couple of hours you know."

"I'll wait."

Archie looked at him. "Henry called a little bit ago. Said you gave him and his brother plane tickets."

Grissom didn't answer.

"That's pretty cool, Grissom."

Grissom still didn't answer. Archie looked away.

"Did you know he has a doctorate?" Grissom asked.

Archie looked at him. "No. He does?"

Grissom persed his lips a moment. "Yes."

"Wow. He's so young too."

"Yes."

"So did he get that just recently?"

"No. When he was eighteen."

Archie leaned forward. "Are you kidding me?"

"No. I'm not."

"I always knew he was smart, but that's like Mensa smart."

"He's in Mensa."

"Dang!"

The computer beeped and a profile filled the screen.

"Anthony Craig," Archie said.

Grissom grabbed the mouse and scrolled through a list of charges. Among them: grand theft auto. Grissom gave the screen an angry smirk. He picked up the phone near the computer and dialed.

"Brass, I need you to pick up an Anthony Craig. Last known residence is 1576 Tahoe Drive." Grissom hung up the phone and grabbed the Polaroid as he stood.

"Is this the guy that did it?" Archie asked.

"We don't know yet."

* * *

Anthony Craig stared at the ceiling through his green tinted lenses. He didn't look down when Brass and Grissom walked into the room. Grissom sat down across from him, setting the folder he carried in front of him. Brass hung back against the wall. 

"Anthony Craig, you just can't keep your paws off other people's cars, can you?" Brass asked.

Anthony laughed, dropping his head. "Cars aren't for sitting around, man. They're for driving fast!"

"Is that why you boosted a 2008 Shelby GT?" Brass asked.

"A car that sweet shouldn't be sitting around some dealer's lot. It's made to _cruise_."

Grissom took out a blown-up print out of the Polaroid and slid it in front of Anthony.

"Is this you? And the Shelby?" Grissom asked.

Anthony lifted his glasses to look at the photo. He laughed, picking it up. "Shit, man! That old coot said this was for her memorial wall! Last time I'll do business there."

Brass asked, "So you admit you stole that car?"

"Actually," Anthony leaned on the table. "What really happened is my friend stole the car and I ended up paying for the car."

"Paying for it?"

"Yeah. See, we had this bet and I lost, so I had to pay him for the car. So I paid for the car. But it was trashed, man! So I hauled off to the junkyard. That old crone didn't pay me half of what it was worth!"

Nick came into the room with a handful of papers. He handed most of them to Grissom, tapping the top one.

"You were arrested two years ago for grand theft auto, weren't you?" Grissom asked.

"If you got my stats there, you know I was."

"Stats?"

Anthony laughed, falling back in his chair. "Totally! I'm the biggest name in car thievery!"

"Your DNA was on record after that arrest," Grissom told him. "We compared it to hairs and saliva in the front seat and it proves you were in it."

"I told you that, man. I was in the car when I bought it."

"Yes. You were. Who else was riding with you?"

"I was driving, me was riding shotgun, and myself had the back to himself."

"Cute," Nick retorted.

"Actually, Anthony, you and your split personalities weren't the only people in that car. There were whiskey bottles in the back seat that came back with four DNA donors – including you. Moreover, there was some saliva on the back of the driver's seat. That donor is related to you. A brother? A son?"

Anthony's humor lessens, but he still keeps up the act. "I dunno what you're talking about. It was just me."

Nick pulls out a paper and sets it on the table in front of Anthony. It's a copy of the drawing the sketch artists did from Jason's description.

"He was in the car," Nick told Anthony. "He had a flashlight – found that too, with his fingerprints – and he was making scary faces at one of the children that survived. The kid remembers him because he was the last thing he saw before his parent's car was run off the road. Before you, and this guy, and Mike, and Alicia, killed them." Nick leaned on the table. "And we're going to suggest that you be charged to the full extent of the law because you killed a cop's family, Anthony."

Anthony's humor vanished. He looked up at Nick.

"It was Jake's idea. I was drunk when he suggested we do it. I didn't really know what I was doing."

"Jake is…" Grissom stopped to let Anthony answer.

"My older brother." Anthony tapped the sketch. "He's always talking me into shit."

"I guess you should have ignored this time, huh?" Nick asked.

Grissom pulls a pen from his pocket and slides it and a notepad over to Anthony. "Names and addresses."

Anthony picked up the pen and started writing.

* * *

The door of the Main Gate Junkyard office opened and Nick walked in. He wasn't wearing his CSI vest today. Today he wore old, worn clothes, because today was Saturday. Sally didn't look up from her newspaper. 

"Sally?" Nick said as he cautiously approached.

"You're fifteen seconds late."

"Sorry. We're here to help."

"Yeah? You and that runt?"

"Yeah."

"LARRY!" Sally screeched.

She got up and walked around the counter. Larry came through the door, and this time he and Nick exchanged a friendly smile.

"Come on," Sally said, opening the door.

She stopped, staring at the people waiting outside. All of graveyard and several lab techs waited outside, dressed in old clothes and ready to work.

"What's this?" she demanded, looking up at Nick.

"One of our co-workers lost his parents when that guy ran people off the road. We thought we'd show our appreciation for giving us the car and photo. You don't mind, do you?"

She stared at them, then looked up at him, then walked down the stairs, right through the group.

"Come on. Gotta teach one of ya how to run the magnet and someone has to run the crusher. Then we gotta crush some cars today."

Larry laid his hand on Nick's shoulder. "She's saying thank you."

"How can you tell?" Nick quietly asked.

"She didn't put you in the rust pit like she'd planned. She's going to let you crush cars. That's fun work."

Nick chuckled.

He heard Sally tell Grissom, "You people had breakfast? It'll be simple. Just eggs, bacon, and coffee. Only hired help gets pancakes."

Grissom glanced back at Nick with a smile before answering, "We'd appreciate that. Thank you."

Nick smiled. He wondered if the old woman had any idea how grateful they were for her help.

* * *

Catherine and Grissom walked together discussing current cases. At an adjoining hall, they parted and she walked into her office. She stopped in the door, staring at Henry. He sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, staring at a stack of papers in his hand. 

"Hi, Henry. When did you get back?"

He looked up at her. Immediately she recognized the expression on his face; something had overwhelmed and scared him.

"Yesterday. I didn't have anyone else I could ask for help."

She sat the folders in her hand down on her desk and sat down in the chair next to him.

"What's going on?"

"They're asking all these questions this application and I don't know how to answer them." He handed her the papers.

She looked them over. "Are these Jason's school enrollment papers?"

"Yes."

She pulled a brochure out, staring at it for a minute. "You're going to send him to Mason Howe Preparatory?"

"Is that a bad school?"

"No. It's an amazing school. It's also fifteen thousand a year."

"Oh. Well, that's not a problem."

"It isn't?"

Henry looked down. She thought he wasn't going to elaborate so she started sorting through the papers to get an idea of what they needed to fill out.

"I never really knew my parents," Henry quietly told her.

She looked up.

He stared at the floor as he continued. "We always had money, always were well off. I thought it was because my dad was a scientist and mom was a lawyer. I never knew how much money they really had until now." Henry seemed to think about that for a moment and then added, "If I wanted to, I could quit today and both me and Jason, we'd never hurt for money."

"So why stay?"

"I like it here. My friends are here. And I get to laugh at Hodges."

She chuckled. "We do get a lot of laughs out of him."

Henry smiled, nodding.

"You know," Catherine began. "When I was a teenager, I thought it was everything to be the daughter of a rich casino owner. I can understand wanting to make your own money, your own way. You're doing a good thing to keep working."

"Do you think… When we're done with this, you could tell me where to find a good babysitter, too?"

Catherine laughed. "Oh, Henry, that is a whole different ball game! But I tell you what… I will talk to my mom, and see if she can't help out for a couple months. How is Jason?"

Henry's humor disappeared. She'd asked the wrong question.

"He barely eats. He rarely laughs."

"Have you thought about therapy for both of you?"

He nodded again.

"Good. Let's figure out these papers. Do you have his vaccination paperwork?"

Henry grabbed a backpack next to his chair and pulled out a file folder. She leaned back in her chair, settling in to help Henry begin learning how to be a parent.

* * *

Grissom had come back to grab a folder from Catherine and stopped outside the door eavesdropping on the conversation. It was strange how one night could change one's perspective of a person. He respected Henry for taking on the daunting task of raising his brother alone, finishing a second doctorate, and still working despite his apparent windfall. There was a lot to be said about a person like that. 

Grissom turned and headed back to his office. The folder could wait.


End file.
